


May I See Your Panties?

by PGT



Category: One Piece
Genre: Anal Fingering, Crossdressing, Lace Panties, M/M, Masturbation, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-17
Updated: 2019-04-17
Packaged: 2020-01-15 05:56:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,151
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18492766
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PGT/pseuds/PGT
Summary: PWP based on the idea that Brook catches Sanji wearing panties after an odd reaction to his usual question.





	May I See Your Panties?

**Author's Note:**

> Yes Brook can probably fuck in canon. But that's boring.  
> This is PWP I'd like to write a preface to this but that's for another day.
> 
> Feel free to comment ^ ^

Sanji feels the blush crest his cheekbones, aware of the musicians eyes tracing his nearly bare frame, despite his lack thereof. He forces himself to speak clearly, tries not to be insecure so undressed across from the fully suited man.

"Does this... Do anything for you?"

Brook sits in a chair with arms loosely crossed over his thighs, leaning forward. It takes a moment to realize he's being asked a question, and he shakes out of the trance Sanji's body puts him in.

"Oh yes. Not physically, of course," he points to his pants as if that's obvious. “But your body is incredibly sexy, and those panties are a beautiful fabric.”

The formality of Brook’s words almost soothe him. He isn’t being deeply flirtatious, though Sanji has a feeling the man could be if he wanted to. Instead he restrains himself to his chair, hands passing no further than his knees, only his eyes and words invading Sanji’s space.

He relaxes more into the couch. They’ve taken the privacy of watch on a tame island, it’s unlikely they’ll be disturbed while the rest of the crew is adventuring and shopping. Zoro didn’t argue when Sanji handed him his portion of the money and the shopping list, after he agreed the spare change could be used for as much booze as the man wanted. So, the soonest anyone should be returning would be hours.

Their privacy doesn’t stop Sanji from his embarrassment as he parts his legs, forces his shoulders back, and crosses his arms behind his head. He doesn’t have the focus or the energy to make a lewd expression, but he doesn’t need it-- the way he chews his lip nervously, eyes darting up towards Brook every so often is more than the man could ever request.

He takes in the cook’s form, lithe and firm, pale and rosey. Everything is beautiful, And if not for his personal favoritism, he would be satisfied scanning Sanji’s body head to toe until night fell. But this was not the case, as between his now open thighs was the prized star of the show: dainty red panties with lace and a small black bow. They hide nothing, Sanji’s half hard cock barely restrained, a small spot of wetness marking where the tip pushes against the fabric. 

Brook itched to touch Sanji through the fabric, to make him whine and squirm, and to ruin the beautiful material in the best way. He wanted to caress Sanji’s body in all sorts of ways, but alas, there was so little he could do in this body. Cold and rigid, Brook insisted he was content to only watch.

“Please go on, Sanji-san.”

He shifts, and his bangs fall in front of both eyes.“I’ve never… done this in front of anyone.”

 

“I’m sure there’s no wrong way of doing it. Just do what feels good.” Brook can feel the tone of his voice shift, his deep baritone falling lower as his arousal rises in anticipation.

So Sanji readjusts once more. He’s still sure to keep his body facing Brook, but he postures one leg on the cushion and another on the floor. He trails his hands down his chest, and Brook delights in the way his breath hitches as he brushes against his nipples. His hands continue down his abdomen, admiring the toned figure. His hands separate to go down each leg, starting on the outer thigh and returning up the inner thigh, before finally he addresses his own arousal, letting one hand continue to massage a thigh while the other kneads his cock through the satin. The material is a unique texture against his skin, in no means hindering his progress.

The idea of being watched in such feminine clothing sends pleasant shivers up Sanji’s spine and he opens his eyes once more to see Brook entranced. He continues to stroke himself, and can almost imagine Brook tracing even those faint movements, though there is no physical proof of his doing so. Instead, he sees the twitch of the musician’s fingertips, as if he wishes to touch Sanji, but is stopping himself. It sends warmth to his stomach to think someone sees him as so desirable, even if he has to wear lingerie to be seen that way.

He dips his hand beneath the waistband, continuing to stroke himself without removing the item Brook was ultimately here to see. His other hand abandons the light red trails marking his thigh, and he presses a finger against his tongue, soft sucking sounds interspersed with heavy breathing.

The sensation Brook feels, watching Sanji buck against his own hand, listening to his moan muffled by his hand, it is a complicated feeling. There is nothing to outwardly express his arousal, but it clouds his mind like a thick mist, and he isn’t sure he would be able to tear his eyes away from the scene before him even if the bravest navy officer kicked down the door. It takes only a second to stop himself from reaching for the crotch of his own pants, remembering there is nothing there to satisfy with friction. It’s the curse of his unlife; his mouth waters to take Sanji’s cock, yet it doesn’t. His fingers itch to find the man’s prostate, to make him squirm underneath him. But surely, with no skin to soften them, his fingers must be a poor tool for the job. And of course, the idea of Sanji knelt between his legs, head ducked against his hips, is accompanied by old memories of flesh that no longer apply.

So he simply watches. He ignores the sensations that ripple through his bones, that make the small hairs at the back of his skull rise. He simply enjoys what he can as Sanji finally takes his wet finger, parting the red satin curtain to rub slow circles over his own entrance. He is bent over himself now to give Brook a proper show, raising his hips yet somehow not losing balance.

“You’re beautiful, Sanji-san.” Words are all the support Brook can give.

Whether he whimpers at the comment or at the sensations he barrages himself with, Brook is not sure, but he finds his chest bubbling with pleasure at the sound. He hastens his process, slowly pressing his finger into himself, pumping his cock at an erratic pace, as if wanting to finish but not wanting to rush.

“That’s it...”

“Brook...” His eyes flutter open, meeting the skeleton’s from behind locks of hair.

Brook makes a sound of approval, but Sanji doesn’t seem to have much more to say than his name, panting it twice more before letting his head fall back, his finger crooking into his prostate, his fist stilling beneath the red fabric, a pooling darkness quickly staining. It’s not the panties that Brook’s eyes last fall on, but Sanji’s softly closed eyes, his ajar mouth, his ruddy cheeks.


End file.
